I could not find enough of him
to satiate lust and sure, every
time I glanced across the table
there were his hungry eyes.
Dios, le cuide.
If my body song ran
harmony to the side show
of words we traded,
if yours wove itself
in complement, what
meteors we would be.
Dios, nos cuide.
My sweet hungers crave
beyond, lasting with other men
whose love squares
spare moments.
orphan poems 